Second Nature (24 page)

“It could be Ashton and
Sage at my house.”

His dark-blue eyes
narrowed. “I don't think Ash should sleep at your house. Ever again.”

“When you lower your
voice and narrow your eyes like that, you actually sound like Batman.”

“Did you have fun?” He
laughed, changing the subject.

“No, I hate dances. These
contacts are scraping my eyeballs out. Sage was weird all night, pretending she
didn't see me unless she was staring at you. Rita looked like she was actually
trying to eat Ashton so I couldn't even talk to her. She should have come as
Raja instead of Jasmine. And Lindsey looked miserable all night, regardless of
the fact she got Vincent to dress up as something other than Al Capone. And my
mom made me wear the fat-sucking-in underwear so I didn't stand a chance at not
holding my stomach in the entire night.”

He wrinkled his nose.
“You don't have any fat.”

“Try telling that to my
mom.” I moaned and wriggled, adjusting the underwear so I could breathe. “Sage
at least was having a good time. Of the five of us, she was the only one.”

“I had fun,” he offered.
“Even if you didn't.”

“You’re way more social than
I am. You can have fun in a corner alone. So much so that you convince everyone
else that the corner is fun and the whole party
moves
there.”

He rolled his eyes, which
was an even bigger gesture in a mask. “Oh man, you exaggerate.”

“It’s true. Everyone
likes you.”

“Everyone likes you too.”

“No.” I shook my head.
“Not the same way they like you. And I don't mind. I like being the girl who
flies under the radar.”

His eyes lowered to my
chest. “I did notice something was not flying under the radar.”

I shoved him and covered
my boobs. “My
mom made me wear
a push-up bra.”

He bit his lip and
nodded. “Yeah, noticed that.” He wrinkled his nose. “And everyone else noticed
it too. Maybe the tensor bandage isn’t such a bad thing.” He laughed.

“Oh, you’re not comfortable
with everyone in the room staring at my boobs? What? That's crazy!”

“Not so much. I feel like
a pretty confident guy, and I think I’m comfortable in most situations, but
having every dude at the party eyeing up my girlfriend’s chest, even my best friends,
that’s not awesome.”

I tried not to gush or
get excited that he had called me that. “Welcome to my life.”

“Maybe your dad should
see some of that action, and he’ll make sure your mom never gets her way again.
In fact, you might end up in a tower. He still whispers death threats to me
when no one’s looking.”

I turned sharply. “What?
Is that why you don't want to—?”

“Yeah,” he answered like
I should have known that. “I want to. I just get worried he’s there, and
because Ash is always at my house, we’re always at your house, and then your
dad’s like eyeballing me from every corner. Corners I didn't even know you had.
He was leering at me through a plant two nights ago when we watched that
movie.”

I started laughing,
relieved that it wasn't his mental state or me. “My dad lives with Judith now.
He was just staying at the house because of the whole Andrew thing. He’s trying
to be there more for Mazy and me.” I bit my lip and contemplated not telling
him the next part.

“What? Why do you look
like you’re laughing at me in your head?”

“My dad went back to
Judith’s today. Mazy’s sleeping there tonight and dad took her and Michael
trick or treating. He’s really trying harder.”

“So he’s not home?” His
lips started to toy with the grin that was growing on me.

“Not home.”

“What about your mom?”

“She’s home, but Sage and
Emily will be at my house tomorrow night.”

His dark-blue eyes
sparkled from behind his mask. “Your mom doesn't really scare me.”

“She should. You just
naturally have no survival skills.”

He leaned in and kissed
me, gently brushing his lips against mine. “Girls aren’t scary.”

“Liar.”

He smiled against my
mouth and knocked on the partition, getting the driver to lower it slightly.
“Take us to Miss Allen’s house, please.”

“Certainly, Mr. Van der
Wall,” the English driver spoke softly as he closed the partition again.

Jake gave me a look. “You
know what this means, right?”

I pulled back. “That
we’re going to my house to have—”

“No, I mean the costumes.”
He offered me a completely sleazy grin. “Catwoman and Batman have a thing. I
saw Michael Keaton and Michelle Pfeiffer getting it on.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s
my second time. I think we can hold off on costumes.”

He shook his head. “Trust
me, this is a good idea.” His childish grin made me want to slap him.

It was incredibly
gratifying to be able to laugh and joke and breathe a little easier. Yes, the
girl terrorizing us was still missing, but Andrew and Tom were both behind
bars. Things in the world were slowly working
their
way back to normal, only a better version of it.

Halloween Scream Part Deux

October 31, 2015

Sierra

The noise of the creaking
stairs, the ones I had just crept up, sounded like it echoed in my ears. Had
someone followed us there or was Jenson back with the champagne?

I almost laughed at
myself for being silly, but the past couple of months had been horrible and
laughing at noises in the dark was a foolish mistake I no longer made.

“Jenson,” I whispered,
hoping he was messing around. If he was, I would be angry. Taking a step I
cringed at the sound of my heel clicking on the floor.

I lifted one leg after
the other and slipped my high heels off, holding them both so I could tiptoe
through the half-constructed mansion without making noise.

Jenson didn't answer, but
the footsteps had stopped from the moment I whispered.

The scary movie marathon
we’d had before Rachel died flashed through my head, bringing ideas and
memories with it. I tiptoed around the corner, brushing my Frankenstein’s bride
dress on the rough edge where the unfinished walls met. The drywall scraped
against me, making me wince as I hurried along the corridor to the back deck.
Whoever was in the house with me was either moving silently too or they were
standing still, listening.

Either way, I had a
terrible feeling this wasn't a game.

That meant one of several
options was happening: Jenson was either injured, hiding, or he hadn’t come
back yet.

And I was alone with the
killer.

I shivered and reminded myself
that Andrew and Tom were both behind bars. If I was being stalked it was by the
girl, the one who had worn the same dress as me. I could take a girl.

Maybe.

My heart raced, my eyes
burned from not blinking—fearful I would miss something—and my
throat was as dry as a mouthful of popcorn.

The floor creaked.

I froze.

“Sierra,” someone
whispered into the dark.

My skin crawled when I
realized it wasn't Jenson. It wasn't his whisper. I’d heard that enough times,
always in the dark, to know it wasn't him.

“Sierra, don't be
scared.” It sounded like something it couldn't be, but I didn't believe in
ghosts so the fact it sounded just like Rachel made me instantly leery. This
girl was trying to mess with me.

I stayed perfectly still,
waiting for the moment I needed to run to the back deck and jump down onto the
sandy beach.

What had the girls in the
horror movies done wrong?

What could I avoid?

My mind raced,
remembering the runners always got caught. But that was because they were
stupid about running. They looked back, which everyone knows slows you down.
That was why they always got stabbed, usually in the back just as they looked
back to scream.

Dumb bitches.

The thought of it made my
skin burn where I imagined the knife would slice.

The hiders always got
caught too. They were the ones breathing too loudly or hiding in stupid places.

I could avoid both of
those outcomes.

Once my feet hit that
sand, I wasn't looking back.

And I could be quieter
than anyone. I’d been having sex at school since ninth grade and still hadn’t
been caught.

“Sierra, I won’t hurt you
if you come to me.”

I squeezed my eyes shut
for half a second and waited for the answer, the right choice, to pop into my
head.

A dog barked, making me
jump and open my eyes. The
sound was joined by the creaking
of the floorboards again
.

With gentle breaths and
controlled movements I crept along the hallway, entering the spot where the
kitchen or master bedroom would likely go. The house was freshly sealed with
windows and doors, but it was still in the drywall stage with plywood floors.

The massive back deck was
through the white French doors, facing the beach and open ocean. The full moon
offered light, enough to make shadows move with me.

I hurried to an alcove I
assumed would one day be a nook for a breakfast bar or maybe the ensuite soaker
tub. I pressed my back against the wall and stared at the bright white French
doors. If I could make it to them, I was free.

If only I had my cell
phone, I could call the police or Jake or Vincent or the girls. Someone would
come and help me. Even Ashton might come if Rita wasn't sucking his face off
somewhere.

But none of that was an
option. I’d left my phone on the counter at Rita’s by accident.

I scolded myself for my
weakness and forced my focus to be on the doors. They were my answer. They were
my hope.

As I exhaled and plotted
my moment to run and everything I would do from that point on, the floor
creaked in the hallway behind me.

It was now or never.

Live or die.

I took one more breath and
pushed off from the wall. I sprinted across the open space, grabbing the door
handle, but through the glass I saw someone had wedged a piece of wood under
the doorknob on the outside. It was angled so you couldn't open the door from
the inside.

The footsteps came up
behind me fast. I didn't have time to spin. In the glass I saw a face I didn't
know, just as the needle came down on me. I screamed as it stabbed and they
pinned me to the glass door.

My scream dulled to a
moan as the pressure on my back faded and my legs started to feel heavy. I
blinked and the face in the reflection of the window smiled. I blinked again
and I was gone, drifting into total darkness until there was nothing.

And then everything hurt.

I grunted as something
sharp dug into my forearm. It happened again. I couldn't hear anything except a
slight, very slight crackle.
Like a fire in the distance.
The sharp thing stabbed and there was a giggle.
A girl’s
giggle.
It sounded
funny,
like she was far
away, and yet the stabbing pain was right there, touching me again in a new
spot on my forearm.

I tried to open my eyes
but something covered them. My lashes brushed against it when I blinked.

I listened for another
sound beyond the fire and the giggle, but there was nothing. No ocean in the distance.
No wind outside. No hum of electricity. It was the silence of a power outage.

But there was a smell.

Cigars.

I didn't know where I
was, but I knew that scent from somewhere.

I winced as the sharp
thing stabbed in again, making me hold my breath until it was pulled from my
skin, leaving only a slight burning feeling when it left.

“Rachel?” I spoke with a
gravelly voice, wondering why I’d heard her whisper in the empty house. No one
answered back. The giggle was gone, as was the crackle of the fire. Even the
pain in my arm had stopped.

Had they been real?

Was this hell?

Was I dead?

I really hoped so.

Stay tuned for Crimson
Cove
Three,
Third Time’s a Charm, coming December
2015. It’ll be a killer of a Christmas in Crimson Cove. You don't want to miss
it.